Opening Alex
by goodnightmoon111
Summary: After another gruelling mission, Alex winds up at Ben's flat, grateful to talk to someone who understands him. A quick look into their relationship as Alex begins to open up.
1. Chapter 1

Since he was eighteen, Ben had always lived alone. This was not to be mistaken for "lonely", it was just Ben had always been busy, and nowadays, his work took over his life. Having a roommate would be impossible.

That's why, when his doorbell rang one early evening, Ben couldn't think who it would be. He hadn't been expecting anyone. Cautiously, Ben opened the door.

Standing on the doorstep, cowering away from the rain, was none other than Alex Rider.

"Alex!" Ben exclaimed, unsuccessfully trying to hide the surprise from his voice. "Come in."

Alex did not hesitate to accept his offer. Outside, the weather was near a full out downpour, and the wind was cold as ever. "I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but I was out for a walk and from _nowhere _it just started to come down like this! Do you mind if - ?"

Ben smiled. "Stay as long as you like. You're always welcome here, Alex. You know that."

Alex clapped him on the back. "Thanks mate," he said, heading to the bathroom to hang up his sopping wet coat. He moved through the flat with comfort and ease; it was nearly as familiar as his own home to him.

The first year Alex had worked with MI6 it had been really tough. He had felt alone and disconnected from everyone around him. That's when Ms Jones had suggested he and Ben spend some time together. Since then, Alex had always come round whenever he felt he needed to talk with someone who understood him. It wasn't even that they always discussed their work; actually, on the contrary, they had quickly found neither of them expressed much interest in discussing that aspect of their life. Instead they talked about everyday things: school, friends, family, girls, and football.

Sometimes, when Jack was staying at her boyfriends', if he didn't want her to see his latest injuries, or if he just needed a break, Alex would use the spare bedroom at Ben's. If Alex wanted to talk about it, they did, but Ben never forced things or made him feel uncomfortable. In the past two years, their relationship had grown into that of brotherhood.

Alex returned to the living room in a spare set of dry clothes that Ben let him keep here. Ben had made tea and heated up some delivery pizza, setting it on the coffee table in front of him.

Shaking out the rain from his hair, Alex asked "How's Shae?" Ben's girlfriend.

"Over. She started getting too curious."

Things like this seemed to happen a lot in their line of work. Nobody could be trusted to get close enough to form a real relationship. The ability to confide in one another without any pretence made Alex and Ben that much closer.

"Ah, well. Next time, mate."

"No worries. It had just been a laugh."

And so their ordinary conversation continued. Each was comfortable in each others company, and soon the evening had been chatted away with dirty jokes, sports arguments, and the like.

However, Ben noticed that Alex seemed to be a little off, his mind distracted; somewhere else. Ben thought it might be time to bring up something that had been on his own mind for a while.

"You were in the hospital. Why?"

Alex's hand moved subconsciously to touch the left side of his torso. "Blood poisoning."

Ben raised his eyebrows in anticipation. He knew there was more that Alex wasn't telling him. Alex averted his eyes, picking out a spot on the floor to concentrate on. "And I was shot again."

Silence. Alex waited. When he couldn't take it any more, he looked expectantly up at Ben.

"I know," said Ben, slowly. "I saw the report. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Alex hesitated, struggling to find an acceptable answer. "I didn't want to make a big deal. I don't know. It's nothing."

"What are you taking?"

"What?"

"You have antibiotics for your septicaemia. And you've been taking them twice a day, I expect?"

"Well, -"

"Alex!" Ben's voice was full with irritated concern.

"Yes, I've been taking them! Mostly..."

Ben sighed and let it go. He didn't want to lecture Alex about taking his medicine. Normally, he wouldn't be so sharp, but blood poisoning was serious, and he didn't want Alex's wound to become dangerously infected.

"I'm fine, Ben, really. I was careful; you know I always am."

Ben knew Alex _was, _in fact, very careful. It sickened him to think about what situation Alex had been in to acquire the infection. Of course, Ben had seen the file, but the details about Alex's hospitalization had been kept classified. All he knew was how terrifyingly dangerous the mission had been, and how close MI6 had come to losing their best agent.

Ben's expression softened. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Alex was famed for never showing any signs of weakness or vulnerability, but now as he sat in Ben's living room, his expression darkened and he chewed nervously on his lip. His eyes glazed over as he disappeared into a series of memories. Absentmindedly, Alex's hand went again to his left, and he traced the flesh around his bandaged wound, none too lightly.

With a sharp gasp of pain, Alex drew his hand away, seemingly unaware of the pressure he had been putting on his gash. Breathing heavy, his eyes met Ben's helplessly uneasy expression with embarrassment.

"Let me have a look, then," Ben said quietly, gently tugging on the edge of Alex's shirt.

Years ago, Ben had been the team medic for his unit. Since then, his medical training had only improved. He was one of the best MI6 had to offer. But professional recognition aside, he was one of Alex's closest friends, and Alex put a lot of trust in him.

"Just as your mate. I swear, if it's too much, I'll drop it."

Alex sighed, nodded and stood up, trying to blink the light headedness away. He'd forgotten how much it _hurt_. Alex removed his shirt, ashamed of the scars and bandaging on his body.

Ben couldn't help but notice that while Alex usually carried himself well, he seemed to be moving with caution and uncertainty. White bandages covered his left side from just above his hipbone, and curved around his back to a couple inches below his armpit– the same spot Alex seemed to be favouring beforehand. Another set of white dressings were covering just below is ribcage on his right side, where he must have been shot. These bandages were less intense, and Ben assumed the wound hadn't been too nasty from the start.

Alex sat down onto the couch and Ben beside him. Lightly, Ben gave Alex a gentle push forward to expose the injured area on his back and side. Alex rested his elbows on his knees as Ben began to remove the bandages over his wound, shivering at Ben's touch.

Ben shuddered as he caught his first view of the damaged flesh. Fresh blood ran down Alex's back, and Ben wiped it away. Two dozen stitches held the long curving gash up the side of Alex's torso together. The skin around the wound was red and swollen, but beginning to heal nicely. To the touch it was warm, but not dangerously hot. Still, the gash was brutally nauseating, and Ben cursed under his breath. He set his emotions aside, he prepared to clean and dress it.

Alex was rather skilled at shutting pain out of his brain. He relaxed his body, and let his breathing slow down a bit, coming deep and even. Alex's eyes fluttered shut and he let his mind wander…

When they had caught him, Alex thought he would be killed straight away. In truth, there really was no reason to be keeping him alive. He knew he had lost, and he accepted.

Still, as the sharpened knife had been brought down on him, he had struggled, thrashing and kicking against the restraints binding him. Instead of one fatal slash, the blade had been inadvertently redirected, plunging instead into the left side of his back. As Alex attempted to squirm away, the knife dragged down the side of his torso, and Alex cried out as he saw the blood spill like a flood from the wound.

Alex's eyes had rolled back into his head, and he lost consciousness.

When he awakened, he was in a wet, dirty cellar. They had left him to die, uncaring as to what would claim his life; exposure, blood loss, hunger, blood poisoning or insanity. After all, it had been his fault. He could have died quickly; a painless slit of the throat. He drifted through hazy waves of unconsciousness; sometimes shivering violently as he came to, or else trying to sweat his fever out, the hallucinations haunting him all the time.

It had very nearly been the end when they found him. Alex had almost been ready to let go.

The pain in his side brought him back. As Ben had cleaned and dressed the gash, the warm water had soothed him, and Alex lost track of time. Ben patted Alex's back, letting him know he was finished. Alex straightened and carefully lowered his back against the couch, mindful of the new bandaging.

"Does it hurt?" Ben asked cautiously as he disposed of the old bandaging. He had noticed Alex's muscles tightening and flexing a few times while he had been working. Was it his cut paining him, or something more?

"Hardly," Alex answered, his eyes not meeting Ben's. "At least not anymore."

Ben wasn't convinced. "Lie back," he said softly. "Let me have a look at your bullet injury."

"It's nothing. It didn't do any real damage. They said it –" Alex was cut off by his own sharp intake of breath. Ben had knelt down beside him and removed the bandaging around his wound. It smarted where the material had pulled at his skin.

"Not bad," Ben said, dabbing alcohol onto the healing scar. "But not _nothing_."

"It could have been worse," Alex countered. There was no irritation to his voice, but his comment seemed to have won over Ben's. Carefully, Ben's practiced hands methodically cleaned the wound.

"All the same…" Ben murmured anyway as he finished taping the gauze. "Done," he said cheerfully, looking up to find that Alex had been keeping his eyes squeezed shut the throughout the entire process.

Turning away, Ben began to clean up his supplies.

Alex stood up, located his shirt, and started to help Ben clear up, bringing a bloodied washcloth to the laundry basket in the spare bedroom.

"How are you?" Ben asked suddenly, finding Alex's eyes as he crept to the doorway. They both knew the question wasn't merely casual small talk. Alex opened his mouth to answer and Ben cut him off. "I mean how are you _really_? You don't have to fake it with me. Tell me."

The tidying up was now forgotten. It was quiet for a moment while Alex was lost in thought. "I don't know," he said finally. "It was a close one. I'd really thought I wasn't going to make it this time."

He paused. Ben waited patiently for him to continue.

"And it really hurt Jack. Stuff like this freaks her out, and it wasn't pretty this time. Everything's just been difficult."

Ben could empathise with Jack. When he'd gotten that call about Alex, he'd immediately expected the worst. Wolf had been on the rescue team, and he'd been the one to call him, describing how when they'd found him, Alex had been delirious. His vitals hadn't looked good, and he was covered in his own blood. Then it had been complete chaos getting him out. Wolf had been carrying him to the medevac copter, but it'd been difficult because he hadn't wanted to agitate Alex's side.

When they'd made it to the helicopter they discovered that somehow, in all the madness, a stray bullet had found Alex's abdomen. When they reached the hospital, he had been in the OR for hours, and somehow beat the odds yet again. "He's in recovery now," Wolf had concluded with an exhausted sigh.

Other than that, Ben hadn't heard anything about Alex. He'd managed to get hold of the mission file, but most of the information had been top secret and didn't give anything about Alex away. Only that he had been sent into some high class gang that specialized in trading heroin and illegal firearms. There were speculations that Scorpia was involved. The stakes were high, and the risks were even bigger. To Ben, it seemed Alex hadn't stood a chance from the start. But he'd always had a sort of protectiveness over Alex and seemed to be constantly underestimating him.

"God, I make _such _a mess," Alex said fiercely, snapping Ben's attention back.

"No, Alex. It's not your fault. You do all you can."

Alex pressed his fingers to his forehead. "It's not fair, though. Jack –"

"She'll come around," Ben said soothingly, putting his hand on Alex's shoulder. "I _know _it isn't fair, believe me. She's just worried about you, and I don't blame her."

"So blame me! I'm the one doing it to her!" Alex exploded, backing away from Ben. "I go out on these crazy missions, and how's she to know if I'll return home? I wish things were different; I _wish _I could just say no, but it's not that easy. And she's so helpless and _alone_ all the time! This shouldn't be her burden, and –"

Alex broke off, one hand clutching his stomach, and the other over his most recent bullet wound, all the while breathing heavy.

"Alex? –" he seemed to be having difficulty catching his breath. He just shook his head.

"Alex," Ben tried again, more urgently, taking a step toward him. "It's alright, Alex." Ben took Alex's hands and placed them on his head to help him breathe better. Alex crumpled as Ben helped to lower him to the bed.

"It's – it's fine!" Alex panted out, panic in eyes betraying him.

Ben cut him off. "Breathe," he instructed.

It took a few moments, but Alex managed to calm himself down while Ben comforted him. When his breathing slowed to a normal rate, Ben spoke softly to him. "You had a panic attack."

Alex stared at his lap. "The doctors told me not to overexert myself," he said quietly, dropping one hand to his gunshot wound. "It's not good for the healing process. I hope I didn't tear the stitches." Alex raked his other hand through his dampened hair.

"Alex, you should be at home, resting."

"I've just told you; things aren't exactly simple there. And I _had_ been resting; I just needed some air."

"How long has it been? Since you were discharged, I mean. "

Alex shrugged. "A few days."

"Alex –" Ben warned.

"Fine! I got home the day before yesterday. Alright? Please don't call _them_. I thought you'd understand!"

Ben was silent. He'd be lying if he said he couldn't empathise. He knew exactly how Alex was feeling now. But _two days_! Ben would have expected anyone in his position to be in bed with a heavy prescription of painkillers at this point. Ben sighed; it wasn't just anyone, it was Alex.

"Jack?" he asked, giving in.

Alex's face cracked into a timid smile. "I left a note."

Ben nodded. He'd have to call her later. "Alright. You can stay." Before Alex could thank him, Ben headed to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. "When's the last time you've taken something?" he called from the hallway.

"A couple hours ago. I'm on Vicodin."

"You're due for your next dose then. Here," he said, returning and tossing a bottle to Alex. "Take two."

Alex dry swallowed the pills with practiced ease, and then smirked at Ben. "Planning to just knock me out, then?" he teased, handing the painkillers back to Ben.

"Will it work?" Ben joked back, plopping down into the chair beside the bed and flicking the TV on to footie highlights.

"You'll have to be cleverer than trying to drug me," Alex said, but already his body was betraying him. It had been the first time in weeks that Alex had been properly on his feet, and now he was starting to feel it. The pills seemed to be kicking in and Alex was already fighting to keep his focus. He refused to let himself settle back into the pillows too comfortably.

"What a beautiful pass!" exclaimed Ben, thankfully not noticing the yawn Alex had tried to stifle. "Liverpool is going to take it this year. I'll bet you anything."

"You're on. I'll put ten pounds on Chelsea."

Ben snorted and gestured to the screen. "With games like that? What a terrible performance. I'd like to see…"

But Alex didn't have the energy to put his heart into the discussion anymore, as he felt himself slipping away into sleep. He'd worn himself out for the day, and had done quite well, all things considered. It wasn't long before he felt his eyelids close on him as he was sucked into the darkness.

Ben turned the TV off and covered Alex with a second blanket. Alex's breathing was deep and even; his expression relaxed and peaceful. Ben took a moment to survey the sleeping boy in front of him.

In his sleep, he seemed so innocent and vulnerable, a side that Alex rarely let show. Except for today. Something had forced him to let some of the walls he'd built up so nicely come down. Normally, Ben would never have pushed him so far, but something was different. Perhaps Alex was merely too exhausted to fight it, but he was finally beginning to open up.

It was late. Ben closed the door to Alex's room as he left and searched for the phone. He dialled the numbers that he'd memorized so long ago. A frantic voice answered the phone.

"He's here," Ben breathed. Across the line, Jack let out the breath she'd been holding, and Ben could imagine her relieved smile. "He's fine," he continued. "Sleeping now. I'll bring him in the morning."

Jack sighed. After a lingering pause, she said, "Goodnight, Ben. Thank you so much."


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for the warm feedback! I really don't have concrete plans for the story; they're just sort of a connected series of Oneshots between the pair! Any suggestions or inspired ideas are welcome!

Also, this chapter has been reuploaded - something about the formatting was strange, and I'm not really sure how that happened. Sorry about that! Here's the revised copy!

Ben had always hated hospitals. The sickly sterile odour, blinding florescent lights, over-polished white floors, and the unnatural hush that blanketed over the people inside them. Hospitals were the same everywhere, and just stepping inside of one was enough to make him go mad. Of course, with a job like his, it was inevitable that he would wind up in one from time to time. Through a sort of force, he'd managed to overcome some of his revulsion.

Now however, as he was sitting beside Alex's unconscious form, reflecting on the events of the last thirty hours, he could not help but to fall back into his usual detest and unease for the unsettling white room surrounding him. As anxious and apprehensive as he was whenever he was in a hospital, it was worse to think about abandoning Alex while he waited for him to wake up. If Alex could live through all of the new injuries he had acquired after last night's events, Ben could fight his petty unease about hospitals.

Ben twisted his neck from side to side, stretching is stiff and cramped muscles. He rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in the palms of his hands, raking his numb fingers through his hair, eyes closed and lost in thought. Blurred images kept flashing through his vision – Alex, running toward him, defeat and exhaustion etched onto his face as he tried to staunch the blood flow coming from a violent stab in his side; the gunshot, fired at the last second, and Alex leaping in front of it to protect a him; Alex falling in slow motion, new blood spurting from his chest; Alex's face twisted in agony as Ben felt for a pulse in the wrist he did not know what broken; and lastly, the image that would haunt him forever, Alex unconscious and broken, his life hanging in the balance while Ben watched him fight for it.

Gasping, Ben snapped his eyes open and bolted into an upright position. It was pure torture for him to sit here and stare at Alex's seemingly lifeless form, but the alternative of letting himself succumb to the waves of sleep pulling him in was simply not an option. Letting the breath out that he did not realise he was holding, he noticed a movement by the door to Alex's private room.

"I was in the area," said Ms Jones, deputy head of Special Operation to Ben's startled stare. Leave it to Ms Jones to happen to be in the area of Berlin, Germany at five in the morning. Her damp jacket showed telltale signs that last night's rain hadn't eased up, but she was otherwise dressed quite smart.

At the moment, Ben didn't have the courtesy to stand upon her entrance. He was quite upset with MI6, and the condition Alex had run into because of them. He eyed her irritably as she occupied the seat beside him.

"I've had a word with the doctors," she began, all business. "You know he's to make a full recovery. He's only ruptured –"

"I bloody well know what he's all ruptured! And broken, and bled for that matter!" Ben exploded, "I was there! I was right there when he started coughing up blood, and then when the EKG went flat. In the medevac copter they told me it was all over, do you know that? So don't tell me it' all good."

An eerie silence fell over the room, breaking through even all the machines hooked up to Alex that were steadily beeping and humming in the background. Ben broke eye contact with Ms Jones and let his eyes wander until the rested on Alex's peaceful figure. It was the same thing that Ben had been staring at for the last day, without fail. The only change now was the light from a not yet risen sun broke through the window, and illuminated his corner of the room. A white sheet covered his broken body, but Ben could imagine what it looked like underneath. A tube hung out of his mouth, and an ugly bruise had formed just under his left cheekbone.

When Ben felt he had regained enough composure to continue with Ms Jones, he turned towards her to find she had been staring at the same thing he had been.

"You can't keep doing this. There's only so much he can take," he said, controlling his tone.

"He's not a child, Ben"

"No, he isn't anymore. Not after what you've put him through. He's still a teenager - his birthday isn't for another few weeks, you know! How much longer do you think he can wake up half dead in another hospital and bounce back like nothing? He hasn't got superpowers"

"Thank you, Ben, we are aware," Ms Jones replied, her composure unfaltering. "This is a matter we have discussed on many other occasions, and now is not the time to continue in that direction. Alex's affairs with us have no concern of yours."

"They sure as hell do if you're going to send my team in to rescue him from that madhouse school he was in. What was he supposed to be doing there?"

Ms Jones pursed her lips. "Later, Daniels, not now. I, in fact, am not here to argue the workings of the British Intelligence. I came up to let you know the doctors are worried about you."

Ben was taken aback for a moment. "Me?"

"It is my understanding that you haven't slept since the whole incident? Ben, it's been over thirty-one hours now! And you refused to submit yourself to a medical check up? That's a standard procedure, you know that"

Ben was fully aware of what was _standard procedure. _When the helicopter had arrived at the hospital, and Alex had been wheeled away into an emergency operating room, Ben had tried to follow, desperately trying to grab hold of the gurney. It had taken three other team members to pry his hands away and hold him back. As soon as he'd gotten control over his breathing again, he had made a dash for the bathroom, throwing up his stomach's contents into the toilet, still retching minutes after his belly was empty.

He'd stayed curled up on the cool bathroom floor for a while after that, adrift in the notion that he had lost Alex forever, and if only he had made to Alex a few moments sooner, everything might be different. Finally, he had picked himself off the floor, headache beginning to form in full bloom, and stumbled to find Alex's room. Since then, he hadn't left the chair across Alex's bedside, and he definitely hadn't gone in for a _check up_ that would only tell him what he already knew.

Ben became aware that Ms Jones was still speaking and managed to snap out of his thoughts

"I've arranged a room for you, and the staff would be quite pleased if you'd make use of it. There are tests that they'd like to run on Alex now, and it would be best if you were out of the way. I'm sure you'd understand that it's what's best for him."

Ben shook his head. "No. There's no way. They can do what they want to do, but I'm staying with him."

"And what does that accomplish – you watching him sleep? They've stabilized him; he's going to wake up, but he needs to rest first. Just like you. It's an order, Ben."

Ben didn't react. He kept his eyes focused ahead on Alex. How could she not understand how important this was to him?

"Ben? I said –"

Before Ms Jones could finish her sentence, Ben had rose from his chair and begun to make his way toward Alex. He had realised he had nothing to fight anymore, and sleep would do him good.

Ms Jones looked on as Ben reached out and lifted Alex's uninjured hand ever so slightly from the sheet. She coughed awkwardly. "I'll leave you to it, then, and expect you'll be settled in your room. I'll be along; plane to catch." Her heels clicked obnoxiously as she left the room.

Ben sighed in overwhelm and exhaustion. He squeezed Alex's hand, watching his face, hopeful for a nonexistent response. "I'll be back, bud," He whispered as he laid Alex's hand back onto the sheet. The sky was pink and illuminated by the half risen sun. Ben turned and left the room.

The nightmare was unending for Alex. He couldn't escape it, could not penetrate it, could not control it. The drugs were too strong, and he could not wake up. His body was too subdued to thrash around or scream as he usually did.

He watched himself carrying the girl up the school's stairs. She had been knocked out by the school's corrupt headmaster who was trying to use students as illegal organ donors, and was an awkward weight to be carrying up the school stairs. It had been in his haste, really, that he'd mispositioned her and nearly dropped her down the steps. At the last moment, his arm had shot out, and he felt the bone crack clean in half under her weight. Grimacing and lightheaded, Alex powered through, the girl now in a fireman's hold over his shoulder. He headed to the roof, where he knew a rescue helicopter had to be waiting.

All hell had broken loose on the very last landing.

_They_ had been waiting for him. Out of nowhere he was down. The men, who only had the intention of stopping him, were on top of him, teasing him with a knife. It couldn't be over. Not like this. He was so close.

The blade was closing in. It hovered tauntingly over his heart. Three inches, two, one inch away from his skin.

The door above blasted open. In ran SAS operatives, shouting and pointing guns. Alex jumped into action, twisting his body so that he would be freed. He would make it, he just had to be quick and –

Too late, he felt the warm blood splatter out of his side as the knife made contact. It had been a lucky last attempt on his attacker's part, plunging into the side of his abdomen as Alex twisted away. In another sixteenth second, Alex would have been freed and safe. Alex stumbled, dizzy already from blood loss. His hands were slick with his own blood. Up, up the stairs and it's over, come on now. He swung the door open and breathed the fresh air. There was his waiting helicopter, his promise of a safe return, and there was Ben shouting words he could not make out, but understood anyway: _come on, let's go!_

And then Alex turned. He saw the gun come out before he saw who was firing it. The door behind him had opened again, and a well aimed shot intended for Ben was fired into the rainy night. It didn't even come as a question for Alex. It was instinct; he jumped in from to protect his friend. Instant pain, more than he had ever known, exploded from his chest.

Down he fell, his red blood everywhere. Muted gunfire echoed around him, and voices shouted into the night, but to Alex they did not make sense. Alex lay, his half closed eyes staring at the black night, too numb to feel the cold rain falling onto him.

Mere seconds, that had felt like an eternity, passed and a familiar figure dropped to his knees at Alex's side. No longer with the strength to make any response or acknowledgement, Alex let his head drop to the side.

The world around him moved in a blur. It was as if Alex was caught below a heavy current of water, unable to break free from the pain. He was trying, somehow, to fight his way to the surface, as he felt hands moving over his body, searching for his injuries.

And suddenly a flash of blinding agony; someone had unknowingly grabbed is broken wrist. Alex's whole body jerked with pain; his eyes snapped open and his back arched up off the ground.

And then it was over. Alex's body's primal instincts kicked in; the incredible pain pushing him over the edge. It was all too much. Alex was hurting and exhausted in every way. Gratefully, he fell into the open arms of unconsciousness, spiralling into the darkness.

The darkness had been endless. How could he not be dead? His body had taken such a beating – as it had before – but there was no way to deny it anymore; Alex was becoming weaker. The constant trips to the hospital – mere bruised bones, but sometimes, _deadly_ infections or bullet wounds – were beginning to take a toll on him. Every time he made it out alive, it was another miracle.

But determined, the insides of Alex's persistent body faithfully knit themselves back together after every time those precious cells were so brutally ripped apart. While he slept, peacefully resting, his insides were so hard at work, repairing every damaged fibre with renewed strength. Alex was lucky. How many more times would his body fight and pick up the pieces for him?

In truth, that very thought had plagued Ben's mind for months now. Though Alex would never admit it, something was changing in him, and Ben had noticed. The beating of his job was hardening the edges around Alex's once innocent spirit, and beyond physical damage, Ben knew that there were mental repercussions that would never leave Alex alone. These feelings beleaguered Ben's mind relentlessly, and every night as he went to sleep, it was the only thing he could think about.

In part, Ben knew, he himself was responsible. As a brother and sort of role model to Alex, he wasn't taking the initiative he was responsible for in steering Alex into a better lifestyle. Ben knew it was on his shoulders to end these ridiculous missions as soon as he could, and before Alex was too far gone.

With the aid of sleep medication, Ben had finally succumbed to the far world of sleep, and allowed himself a brief period of rest. A few hours had passed, and the only thing Ben knew how to do at the moment was to be back at Alex's side.

It was just past midday, and the doctors had been running extensive tests on Alex all morning. Ben managed to gain access to a copy of the report, and was in better spirits as most of the results were looking quite positive. The only major complication (which, in itself, was miraculous, as the bullet entry site had been clean and easily treated, avoiding all major internal damage as, yet again, it had ricocheted off a rib and out of Alex's body before major damage could be done) was the inevitable infection that would spur from the gash on Alex's side.

The most careful of treatment would have to be administered, in hopes that Alex would be strong enough to battle away nasty infection bacteria. This would mean a more prolonged stay in intensive care, ensuring Alex's stay at the hospital to be at least two weeks. Perhaps they would airlift him to find treatment closer to home, but only after a few days, when he was in a stable enough condition to do so. The struggle back to Alex's optimal health would be long and brutal, Ben knew, but Alex had that sort of determination that would allow him to get there.

In a way, this was good. Alex would have a longer time to recover, and time away from the intelligence business. He would have an opportunity to simply _breathe_. Ben would be sure to make this time as comfortable and stress free as possible. He wanted Alex to be in good spirits for his big twentieth birthday next month, of course.

A small movement out of the corner of Ben's eye caught his attention, and snapped him out of his thought of Alex's milestone birthday.

Alex's head, carefully propped up on a white pillow, rolled ever so slightly to the side, followed by the smallest of groans from him. In a half second, Ben was by his side crouched by the bed, carefully watching Alex's slow movements has he emerged from his stupor. Alex's breathing became less deep, and then slowly his eyes began to flicker open. A groan, louder this time, came from the waking boy, as he struggled to find his place in his now conscious world of pain.

"Alex, Alex, hey," Ben soothed softly, reaching out place his hand on Alex's face, ever so carefully guiding Alex's dull and confused gaze to Ben's reassuring eyes.

Alex blinked his eyes slowly for a moment, his heavy eyelids allowing for his eyes to get used to the daylight streaming in. A small involuntary shift in his positioning where he lay, caused a sudden and sharp intake of breath, followed by an unsettling growl of pain.

Ben winced as he watched Alex struggle with the pain of consciousness.

"Alex, lie still, Alex," he said, speaking Alex's his name out loud as much as possible. He had heard it could be used as a form of reassurance to a distressed victim.

Alex obeyed, and let his eyes fall shut again, using his breathing to control the pain he was feeling. Ben saw how the boy's uninjured hand was clenched around a fistful of bed sheets, his knuckles white with pressure, and Ben gently lifted the hand and smoothed the fingers out in his own, softly squeezing it in an unspoken reassurance.

"Alex, you were in an accident at the Hohenteich Schule," Ben said, clearly and softly, "You're safe now and you're going to make a full recovery here," he reassured, noting the grimace and distressed expression on Alex's usually collected face. Even through dark hospital hours, Alex was famed for managing to hold onto his composure. This was the first time Ben had seen pain taking hold of Alex in such a vice grip. Ben tried not to let his observance seep through into the rest of his words." I'm going to call the doctor and tell him you've woken up; you've been asleep for a while and I'm sure he'd like to see you. Can I get you something, Alex?"

Alex let his eyes flicker open again. The weakness of the boy's physical state made Ben sick to his stomach.

"Morphine," he breathed, his voice dry and hoarse. Just the exertion from the movements of speaking caused him to grimace as the new pain washed over him. His eyes fell shut again, thankfully allowing the burning agony behind them to escape Ben's attention, and Alex lay still once more, his breathing rough and irregular.

Inwardly, Ben flinched. He knew that a decision had been made to reduce Alex's painkiller intake because of the risks of him becoming addicted. Alex was usually tough and had a high threshold for pain tolerance, and to see him in such a state where a painkiller was his top request was unusual and unsettling.

"Alright Alex. Just hold on a little bit for me okay? We'll get you some help," Ben comforted, as he stabbed at the CALL button like it was a lifeline.


	3. Chapter 3

It was another Sunday afternoon at Ben's flat. Ben and Alex were, as usual, watching the sports highlights from the weekend over a couple beers.

Alex had had quite the leave after his mission at the Hohenteich school in Germany. He – usually quite set on springing back into good health – had taken a long while to recover. The injuries he had accumulated had taken a gruelling toll on him, and the long climb of recovery had been very steep and difficult this time around. Alex's entire body was in agonizing pain most of the time, as the doctors had nearly halved his morphine intake in fear of him developing a severe addiction.

At first, he didn't leave his bed at all. Simply staying properly awake was a trying task for Alex, let alone mustering up enough strength to let his body heal itself. He remained in the intensive care unit at the hospital in Berlin for days, under the watchful and attentive eyes of the top doctors there, as well as Ben, who absolutely refused to budge from Alex's side. Any time Alex came to, the first thing he could feel was Ben's presence. He didn't even need to open his eyes to feel the comfort that his friend brought with him - he could feel Ben checking on his pulse and on his injuries, or rearranging the blankets to keep him comfortable, and he could hear the rustle of him flipping through magazines and paperwork, the hushed words he exchanged with doctors, the faint sound of footsteps around the room as he paced, and sometimes, though very seldom, the gentle rumbles of Ben snoring softly at his bedside.

Alex could not imagine the row Ben must have had with Jones and Blunt to allow him to stay; it was completely against protocol and meant MI6 losing the service of another valuable agent for the time being. Whatever their agreement was, Alex was grateful a thousand times over for Ben's presence. It was nice to feel someone fighting on his side, and he was relieved to know it wasn't Jack who had to try and find a place in this world. She had waited, impatiently to say the least, from home while getting hourly updates from Ben.

Afterward, Alex was airlifted to St Dominic's in London, and continued to rest there for two weeks. He began to build his strength, performing physio stretches and exercising however he could. The frequent visits from Ben made everything more bearable.

When Alex went home, MI6, for once true to their word, had not contacted him at first, allowing him time to relax. Alex focussed on his health and some light college coursework. His birthday came and passed with a low-key celebration at home. Jack baked a cake, and Ben brought beer. A few of Alex's friends from Brooklyn came by.

However, as always, the calls from the Royal and General Bank began again. For now, Alex took part in low-risk, routine missions and drills, and was allowed ample opportunity to rest in between assignments. Though the work was well below his skill level, it was good for Alex to be exerting himself again. He'd almost felt like he was missing out on something, as if somehow he did not feel complete. Could it be that he yearned for the danger and threat of more difficult assignments?

A commercial break came on after the Highlight of the Night aired, and Ben stretched, shaking out his limbs after a sedentary day in front of the television. A bright advertisement with exaggerated music cut through the other monotonous banking ads. On the screen, an attractive young woman covered her mouth with her hands as her model boyfriend held out a gorgeous engagement ring to her. The print on the screen told viewers that with a gorgeous diamond, any woman would know how special she was.

Ben snorted as the couple danced away into the sunset on the screen. "Well, I'll get right on that! Buy some ridiculous diamond for the imaginary girl I'm dating," he said sarcastically.

Alex played along with him: "You'd have been better off smuggling one out of Africa last year though. She'd never know."

Ben threw his head back, laughing heartily. "Yeah, I was a bit preoccupied just getting my sorry arse out of there this last time, but I'll know where to go next time!" he joked.

The two shot sarcastic jokes back and forth, musing about the illegally traded treasures they would be able to give their hypothetical girlfriends. After a moment, their laughter subsided, and silence fell over the two.

Ben seemed to be contemplating something hard. After a moment, he slowly began to speak his mind.

"Sometimes, it's like – I wish that I knew there was someone I was coming home to after a mission. Someone keeping my flat for me, someone to look pretty for me, to weep at my bedside and plead with God to keep me alive. Because she loves me, not because I'm a successful, profitable agent." Ben said, swigging his beer. "Crazy talk, I know," Ben snorted, shaking his head, "I must be going soft."

Alex considered it for a moment, sloshing beer around his mouth. He thought of dark hospital hours and endless, punishing missions. He thought of his exhausted body and the scars that littered it. Alex nodded slowly in agreement, carefully weighing out his words. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "It would be nice to have a reason to survive."

Alex had not meant that Ben or Jack or anyone else wasn't reason enough to push past difficult days, to fight through injuries and psychotic captors. To anyone else, Alex's words may have seemed insulting or offensive, but Ben understood Alex perfectly. He knew how their job could push someone to seek an intimate and special type of relationship, and how impossible it would seem to think it attainable.

Ben lifted his arm, holding his beer up high and clinked his bottle with Alex.

"Cheers, mate," he said solemnly, each man taking a long, satisfying drink. Alex downed his beer, and headed to the kitchen for a new one. The mood lifted instantly as Alex tossed another cold one to Ben. As Alex turned to put the empty bottles away, Ben craned his neck over the sofa with a cheeky smile playing at his lips.

"Although, Alex..." he said mischievously, "Who was that lovely lady slipping out early this morning?"

Alex scowled, briefly turning bright red in chagrin. However, if he was at all fazed, it only showed for a moment. Alex flicked the hair out of his eyes and shrugged as he sat down beside Ben, twisting the cap off his beer. "Yeah, well. We all have needs, don't we?" he countered, nonchalantly. The casualness in his voice was just a little too forced, so Ben pried further.

"Right," Ben smirked, "but she seemed a step above a _need_, more like and _indulgence." _Ben whistled. "How was she?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Come off it, Ben," Alex said in a playful, yet stern tone.

"No, seriously! Why didn't you introduce me?" Ben teased, ignoring Alex's plea. "We could have all had breakfast together!"

_This, _thought Alex, _is exactly why there weren't any introductions. _Ben didn't know how to leave something alone.

Alex's mind wandered back to the events of the previous night...

Alex had been seeing Leah casually for a couple weeks now. Alex knew he shouldn't be out with her. Opening up like this put him in danger and Leah's affiliation with him put her in danger. Though Alex knew it couldn't go anywhere, he was caught up in Leah, breathing life in through her. Their relationship – should he even call it a relationship? It wasn't anything to label really. Their _time together_, then – was light and playful. Leah liked martinis and sushi, quirky pubs in the forgotten corners of London, and dancing music. Their nights out, then, usually consisted of some sort of combination of these things. Leah truly was up for anything, any time, and Alex followed gladly, relieved to have minimal responsibility for once.

This time, Alex met her at the subway station, and they walked together to some Japanese bar that Leah had been dying to try. Outside, the wind was picking up, swirling tiny snowflakes through the air above. It wouldn't be long until another storm started, covering the city in white wetness.

They had dinner and drinks. When the snow wasn't letting up, they ordered more drinks, too cozy to brave the weather outside. In another quarter hour, their server had come round again, and the pair accepted the offer for another round of martinis. It wasn't long before the two of them began to feel a little tipsy.

The restaurant was closing, and Alex had lost count of how many beverages they had consumed. Together, they staggered out into the snowy night, giddy and giggling. Outside it was magical – the storm had forced the city to a standstill; the streets shone like a glittering winter wonderland.

"Look, Alex!" Leah slurred, picking up a handful of snow and throwing it up at the sky. It rained down on her like shimmering confetti. Leah giggled as she danced around in the snow, kicking it up and watching the fluff twinkle in the reflection of the streetlights. She grabbed Alex's hand and twirled him around until he, too, was swept up in her world of dazzling snow. Together, giddy with drunken laughter, they spun through the empty streets, uncaring about another but each other, the soft falling snow, and savouring this moment.

They reached a street corner. Leah looked up at Alex expectantly like a curious child. "Which way?"

Alex looked around him, getting his bearings, but Leah began to tug at his scarf playfully, waiting for a decision. Leah pulled until she was backed against the brick wall behind her. Somehow, in a moment that lasted forever and no time at all, the two were pressed together, meeting fiercely at their lips. Hungrily, Alex ran his hands through Leah's hair while her hand, resting on the back of his neck, pulled him closer. The snow drifted all around them, but the two no longer noticed. Alcohol had warmed the confidence and conviction of both of them, and they were locked in fiercely passionate embrace.

With an immense effort, Alex broke out of the kiss, looking for a street name on the building. He smiled as Leah continued to brush his neck with soft kisses. They had ventured just far enough into the next neighbourhood for Alex to have an idea.

"Come on," he whispered, grasping her hand, "I know a place. It's not far."

Alex led the familiar way to Ben's flat, praying Ben wouldn't mind Alex having a sleepover as much as he knew Jack would.

_No, he won't, _though Alex, _he'll be shocked I managed to bring a girl home at all._

Alex struggled for a moment at the door, the alcohol causing the room to spin before him as he tried to fit the key in the door. They tiptoed through the flat, Alex leading the way to his room. The moment he closed the door, Leah had him pushed up against it, locking them in an intense embrace once more. Outside, the snowfall was easing up, the clouds clearing just enough for the moon to illuminate the glistening snow on the streets, reflecting muted light into Alex's spare bedroom. In the moonlight, they began to undress each other.

Leah started with Alex's shirt buttons, working them with her hands while she stepped out of her heeled boots. Alex managed to find the zip on the back of Leah's skirt and pulled at it. Leah took another step, inching Alex closer to the bed behind him, letting her skirt fall off her as she moved. They folded into one another harmoniously even though their movements were clumsy and uncoordinated from their intoxication. Though Leah wouldn't remember in the morning, she was fascinated with Alex's muscular arms, and how for a man with such a lean, athletic build, he held her with such powerful strength.

Alex kicked off his shoes as he stumbled backward onto the bed, and fumbled his belt buckle open. Leah, now finished with his buttons, began pulling his shirt off of him, shrugging one sleeve off at a time. She paused then, taking a step back to admire her handiwork. Alex, down to his unbuttoned jeans and undershirt, watched Leah bite her lip coyly, mesmerized. Slowly, she lifted the hem of her shirt up over her head and peeled her arms out of the sleeves, revealing her body to Alex.

Alex gaped at the woman in front of him. She was wearing a black under set, simple and _classic. _The lingerie was not overdone or skanky, but hugged her curves perfectly. The cut accented her features in the right places, and covered just enough to leave Alex's imagination running a million miles a minute.

"What?" she asked, suppressing a giggle.

Alex said nothing, but pulled her by the hand to him. He needed her, _now. _Alex kicked off his jeans, and embraced her, his need to have her urgent. Leah reciprocated, pulling at Alex's boxers, their movements a frenzy. At last, Alex removed the last of Leah's undergarments. It felt _so good _to be this close to someone else, to feel another heartbeat on his skin in intimacy instead of panic.

"Wait!" Leah whispered from underneath him, her lips nearly touching Alex's ear. "This too," she insisted, pulling at the hem of Alex's undershirt, willing him to take it off. Alex did not want to risk exposing the scars and bruises that covered his body underneath. He kissed Leah's shoulder and growled into her ear seductively: "No time!"

Alex's boldness surprised even himself, but he had no capacity to think about it now. He moved into her, and Leah's fingers contracted on Alex's back, piercing his skin. Alex soothingly brushed kisses all over – her forehead, cheeks, and lips, while their bodies moved into each other. Alex felt ecstasy coursing through his veins. Leah, with her eyes lidded, lips slightly parted and breathing erratically, was feeling the electricity too.

"Oh, Alex," she breathed, her bright green eyes piercing Alex's even in the darkness.

Alex sighed heavily, grasping at his headboard for support as pleasure shook through his body.

The heat from inside the room had caused condensation on the window as it collided with the frigid air outside. But it didn't matter – as Alex let himself crumple onto the bed next to Leah, both completely spent and completely satisfied, he could not have had a care in the world beyond the company in his bed and this moment in time.

"She was _sexy_," Ben continued as Alex snapped back to reality, "I mean, I only saw the back, but _wow_, was that enough!"

"Shut _up, _Ben!" Alex exploded, uncharacteristically.

The two, who usually got on quite well were staring at each other in silent bitterness. The only sound was Alex's deep breathing as he tried to calm his anger.

Ben put down his beer and straightened up, his expression softening. He was usually very emotionally sensitive, never overstepping a boundary or missing a cue. While messing around was fun, Ben knew it was time to backtrack. "I'm just having a laugh, Alex. You know,"

Alex said nothing, focusing his grimace on his drink, picking the label off the bottle.

"Alex," Ben tried again, sliding his hand onto Alex's thigh, shaking it slightly, trying to prompt a response from him, "I'm sorry."

Alex turned to Ben, a fire gleaming in his eyes. Realization washed over Ben.

"You like this girl, don't you?" Ben probed, feeling like an idiot.

Alex considered and nodded stiffly, too preoccupied to be angry anymore. "Maybe. It's like you said – coming home to someone would be nice. And the connection I feel with this girl – it's electric," he paused. "I'm not sure – do I like her just because I know I can't have her?"

Ben didn't know what to say. He gave Alex a sympathetic half smile.

"It doesn't matter," concluded Alex, "It's impossible." Alex took a long sip from his bottle.

"It gets easier, if it makes you feel better," Ben said, "The first one is the worst one, but as you get going, you sort of realize that all it is – all it can be – is a laugh."

When Alex didn't immediately agree, Ben continued on a more philosophical note. "Think about it, Alex. This girl, she knows _nothing_ about you, about your real life. A relationship's got to be built on communication and trust, and there won't be any between you. You wouldn't stand a chance, and that's the truth, mate."

Alex thought through Ben's words. Leah may know nothing about his hidden life, but somehow, even so, he felt that she understood him perfectly.

"It's so messed up, all of it," Alex said after a moment.

Ben nodded solemnly in agreement. "I'd thought Shae could be the one, before," he admitted. "If I was living someone else's life."

"In another life," Alex mused, "Leah is the one." He pictured himself coming home from work, a mundane day at the office, perhaps, and a woman (Leah?) kissing his cheek, seating him at the table and serving him dinner. They would talk about ordinary things – vacations they'd take, children they'd raise, cars they'd buy. Worry about mortgages and work promotions – what a life!

Alex shook his head to clear out the fantasy image. It did him no good to dwell on the impossible.

On the coffee table, Alex's phone began to buzz. Alex recognized the call ID immediately.

Alex picked it up. On the other end, the familiar voice of Tulip Jones echoed into Alex's cell receiver. "Alex," she said sternly, all business, "We have an assignment for you. It needs someone of your experience. We require you to come to the Royal and General to be briefed immediately."

Ben's anxious eyes met Alex's uneasy, strained ones. Ben waited patiently, analyzing every word of Alex's half of the conversation.

"They want me back," Alex said as he hung up, "for real this time."

Alex reached out for his beer and downed the rest in one. Back to reality.

Alex kicked himself. How could he have allowed himself to dream of fantasy life, even for a moment? In one second, the image of the average job with an average lifestyle evaporated, leaving him with the gloomy, cold sensation of an ice cube sliding through his stomach.

As much as Alex may have thought he was itching for a new, exciting assignment, in this single instant, his future became clouded over, a nasty fog descending over his looming fate. Fierce regret filled him for wishing, even for a second, that he would be back in the field for good.

He thought of that day, a few weeks ago, where that world had seemed so far.

Snow had been lightly falling outside, making a fluffy white blanket over the sidewalks and streets outside. Alex had wandered into a pub he'd never been to on the way home from a meeting with Blunt and Jones, deciding to have a stiff drink to warm him up while he waited out the weather. He'd only just returned to doing some casual work for MI6, and while his stress level was lower than it had ever been at the "bank," a strong drink after a mission debrief was by no means unwarranted.

Alex was happy to sit by himself at the bar, savouring his drink, lost in his own thoughts. He hadn't even noticed someone sitting down in the seat beside him, ordering a drink and chatting mindlessly with a girl beside her. It wasn't until he ordered another beverage that he shifted his position and bumped legs with the girl beside him, knocking her purse down. She had long, flowing midnight hair, and big, bright green eyes. Though she wore hardly more than wine coloured lipstick for makeup, her features seemed perfectly proportionate, complimenting one another effortlessly.

"Sorry," said Alex, politely. He bent down to pick up her bag. As he reached to give it back to her, the woman, extending her hand out to shake Alex's, instead of grabbing her purse back.

"That's alright," she said sophisticatedly, her warm fingers grasping Alex's.

"Alex," he introduced himself with his real name before he could stop himself.

"Leah,"

They both paused for a beat, Leah staring coyly at Alex's brown eyes and Alex trying to decipher her smile.

"What brings _Alex_ the King's Head pub alone tonight?" she asked.

"I could ask the same of _Leah_," Alex answered, gesturing to the seat next to her that had recently become vacant. Leah's friend was across the room, draped over a fellow who had bought her a drink.

Leah shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Touché,"

And so their evening together began, unfolding completely differently than the quiet, low-key night Alex had planned out for himself. While Alex could not let Leah into his world of spies, machine guns, missions, and secrets, he felt that they immediately shared a connection.

When Leah's friend left with some bloke, Alex, his confidence slightly warmed from the alcohol, insisted on walking her home. The streets were mostly shut down from the snow, and Alex knew that finding a cab would be near impossible. They talked, and giggled, and flirted. Alex suppressed the nagging voice in the back of his head that told him to turn around immediately – this could go nowhere and he knew better. He waited on the sidewalk outside Leah's flat until he saw that she had made it inside safely, and then turned for home.

Alex checked his watch as began walking. It was late – Jack wouldn't be pleased with him making noise as he came home in the middle of the night. Alex changed direction. He knew someone who would let him in – no questions asked. He dug in his pocket for Ben's spare key and picked up the pace of his stride, heading to his safe haven.

"Right! I remember that! Bloody four-thirty in the morning, that was!" Ben exclaimed when Alex confessed about how he'd naively gotten the idea of living a normal adult life. "That's when it started, then?"

"Yeah," Alex said miserably. "What, do I just end it now?"

"You know that's easiest, mate. But do what you need to do."

Alex considered. "I'll call her tomorrow. I just can't deal with it today."

In the end, Alex had just waited outside her flat for her to come home from work the following day. He wanted to do it in person. So he paced outside her building, hardly bothered by the cold.

The moment Leah's eyes met his as she rounded the corner, she knew something was up.

Alex didn't dance around it. He didn't want it to be longer than it needed to be.

"I'm leaving for a while. For work."

"Oh," Leah said deflated. Alex sensed her disappointment and irritation. She obviously assumed he was not interested and looking for an excuse to let her down easy. The same story: getting ditched after sleeping with another stupid bloke had become her routine. Another idiot who wasted her time.

"Listen, this sounds like complete rubbish, I know, but I like you, and I'm coming back. Maybe we could catch up again then?"

"Right," said Leah, unconvinced.

Alex was frustrated. He didn't know what he could say to reassure her. He knew how feeble he sounded. But Alex didn't care – he took a breath and pressed on.

"I dunno when I'll be back really... it's –"

"Complicated?" supplied Leah, unamused.

Alex nodded his head, his lips pushed together into a thin line. "Something like that," he said softly, thinking not only of this moment, but of so many more times that "complicated" didn't even begin to cover the situation.

Alex could see into Leah's round bright eyes, and saw her brain and heart working together trying to figure him out. Was he just another jackass screwing her over, or was he worth it? He wished he had the answer for her. For what felt like the millionth time in his life, he cursed MI6 and the dreadful position they always put him in.

Alex took a breath. "I can't make any promises, which sounds pretty ridiculous, I know, but if you're willing to wait around for me a bit, I'll be back and we could – "

"When?" Leah asked, cutting him off, her stone expression unwavering as she spoke.

"I...can't tell you that, Leah," Alex said, embarrassed. This wasn't going well. "Would you know what I meant if I said it's not you, it's me?" he asked.

The corners of Leah's mouth turned slightly upward. Leah's mood had lightened ever so slightly. "No," she said truthfully, "but I may wait around so you could help me to understand."

"You would?"

"I don't know, Alex. Should I?"

"I'm not seeing anyone else, Leah," Alex confessed truthfully. "I don't really get around to going out with girls often at all, actually. But if you want to try when I get back, if you want to give it a go, so will I."

Alex had never been so bold before, he surprised himself. He had never been one to chase, and he still didn't know if what he was saying was fair or real or worthwhile or right, but he wanted to know he had tried.

Leah's expression was unreadable. Alex sensed defeat. It was time to go. As Alex moved past Leah on the sidewalk, he lightly brushed her cheek with his lips. "It was fun last night," he said in farewell, and then continued down the sidewalk, alone.

"Alex!" Leah called, and he turned. "You have my number?" she asked.

Alex nodded.

"You could, you know, you could give me a call sometime," said Leah with a crooked smile. Alex stared, unbelieving. He couldn't find words. "When you're back. _Sometime, _you said," Leah teased, when Alex said nothing.

Alex's heart leapt. The wind picked up and rustled the hair framing Leah's face.

"I will," he said, smiling as he thought about the stunning woman in front of him. He wondered what would happen. Alex turned away and headed for the Royal and General Bank.

Just ten days later, Alex clung to that image – Leah standing there, the wind whipping dark strands of her hair around her face, while her kind, intense eyes pierced into him and a soft smile played at her lips – while his life hung in the balance.

The mission had been too dangerous. MI6 had underestimated their opponent – a Polish terrorist organisation, STORM, with elaborate plans to begin something of a third world war by planting false controversial stories that would effortlessly put every European country up against one another, causing political, economical, trade and military chaos – and overestimated Alex's ability to succeed in taking them down without much of a backup team.

Sensing that he was in over his head, Alex made plans to get out early, while he still could. He would report what he saw and learned, and from there MI6 could build a stronger team and plan.

Alex didn't make it out. Infuriatingly, he was caught by a local gang in the streets, who, unknowing of who Alex was and thinking only of the ransom money possible from a British hostage, had turned him into STORM for a simple reward of petty drugs and cash.

STORM was smarter. They knew what they had been gifted and they wanted British Intelligence information and secrets. They didn't care what they had to do to Alex to get it out of him.

He lay on his front on a wooden bench in a dark cell. His wrists were handcuffed to the cell bars in front of him. Around him stood half a dozen men. One asked the same questions time and again, and when Alex didn't give the answers he wanted, another man brought his belt down on Alex's bare back, whipping him with the buckle over and over. Alex had never seen so much blood before.

Alex balanced uncomfortably on his elbows, trying to brace himself for the beatings. His, hands, bound in front of him, were useless as the force of the blows knocked him forward each time, ramming his bloodied face into the steel bars. With no protection, Alex was losing his strength and consciousness quickly. His back was slick with blood, the pain of the gashes searing into him.

When his captor, frustrated with his lack of progress with Alex, told him to think of death, Alex thought of life, and Leah. Leah standing there, hair wild in the wind, waiting for him, and also Ben, who, though never admitting his frantic worry, was eagerly hoping for Alex's safe return. A small voice in the back of Alex's mind taunted him: _you wished to have a reason to fight for your life, and now you have it. But you'll never see it again. _The belt came down and snapped against his skin again. Alex cried out, and hoped for a miracle.

His miracle, an Austrian spy, assigned essentially the same mission as Alex, watched from above. He sat on top of the building, peering through the tiniest, crumbly hole in the concrete compound. He'd heard rumors, years ago, about a British teenaged spy. The boy below matched the description. Was it worth risking his cover to save him? An alliance with MI6 would be an asset, but a life debt from MI6 would be invaluable beyond measure.

However, the Austrian would have to choose his moment wisely. He watched the boy weaken, the slashing sounds made by the whip as ugly and distinct as ever, but the cries from the boy begin to soften as his awareness faded.

The boy fell silent at last, his consciousness leaving him. An argument broke out, in Polish, and the agent above struggled to understand. Finally, the beating stopped, and Alex Rider was left with only two men standing guard over him. They could be taken care of easily enough. The agent watched as blood continued to drip down the boy's face, back, and arms, pooling on the floor. If Alex Rider could hold on for twenty more minutes, he would survive. The Austrian man readied his supplies, and prepared to move in.

With an enormous amount of luck, Alex Rider would make it through.


End file.
